


Stitches

by spiderstanspiderstan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Nat trying to translate her skills in a way that won't be totally damaging, and assassins, concrit wanted, needlepoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderstanspiderstan/pseuds/spiderstanspiderstan
Summary: When the world’s best assassin came to you and said, “I need a place to stay,” you couldn’t tell her no.Peter was starting to regret that.Because Natasha was teaching him needlepoint.





	

Peter had never been good at talking to pretty girls, but when the world’s best assassin came to you and said,  _ “I need a place to stay,” _ you couldn’t tell her no. 

He was starting to regret that.

Because Natasha was teaching him needlepoint. 

Stabbing his finger for maybe the fifteenth time in fewer minutes, Peter resisted the urge to fling his  _ stupid  _ embroidery hoop thingy across the room. Natasha leaned over and watched the drop of blood from his finger slowly filter through the cloth.

“Your stitches are too big,” she said. A twizzler was hanging from the corner of her mouth like a cigar. She removed one from the packet without crinkling the cellophane and offered it. 

Peter took the candy, and started undoing his past half-hour of work. 

“I build computers,” he complained. “How is this going to help me?” 

“Your fine motor skills are atrocious.” Natasha shrugged, pulling in her twizzler and chewing it. She’d stolen the packet while Peter was at school, and he was definitely going to be blamed. “According to Tony, watching you build a computer is like, I quote, ‘Watching a toddler play Operation’ _.  _ Besides, how are you supposed to forge signatures if you’re not even consistent in your own handwriting?” 

“Maybe — ” Peter said, twisting the end of his thread between his thumb and forefinger so he could re-thread his needle. “Maybe I’ll be able to do stuff that  _ doesn’t _ need me to forge signatures, huh? Maybe I won’t have to do that, ever. Maybe I can get by  _ just fine  _ on my skills I already have and I don’t need to do this dumb karate-kid stuff.” 

 Natasha gave him the same look people did when he talked too much about Warhammer. 

“Maybe. If you never want to branch out whatsoever,” she said. “Or get into anywhere undercover. Actually, speech training would probably help you more there, but writing will still be important.” 

“Then why aren’t you teaching me writing?” Peter managed to stab himself with the needle  _ yet again _ , because thimbles were for babies and Natasha was sort of right on the fine motor skills thing. 

“Because you lack the motor control to even start,” Black Widow said. “You need to build the… _ awareness _ of movements at that level first. Painting would work, but it’s more expensive.” 

Peter, personally, thought that was stupid.The whole concept was stupid. He didn’t need to have pretty, girly handwriting to stop crime. 

Which he could be doing right now.

Except Natasha would probably snipe him. In her opinion, falling through the window at three in the morning and ‘clattering around’ with a first-aid kit counted as being a bad roommate. Which was totally unfair, because it was his window and his crawlspace and they were only roommates because she’d pissed off some government folks and needed to hide.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “Wait, no, why do I need speech training? I talk  _ great _ .” 

“Your voice is an identifier,” Natasha said. “There are about two-point-three million people in this borough. Let’s say half of them are male. A portion of them will be around your height and weight. A very small subset of those people might have vaguely similar body language. A negligible amount of that subset have similar vocal range, speech patterns, and timbre. I knew who you were the moment I met you off the tarmac.” 

It was not a comfortable reality.

He managed to stab himself again, the needle glancing through the top layer of skin and leaving a thin bubble of translucent epidermis. 

Sometimes, he wondered if Natasha was right. If it mattered. 

She was a bad person. She had to be. Because she did atrocious things. But she was good at them.

Peter, following his design, managed at least one perfect, minuscule stitch. Black Widow looked back over, silently shifting position on his carpeted floor. 

She smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on my new fic tumblr [here!](http://na-no-why-mo.tumblr.com)


End file.
